One Step Beyond The Attic

Crawlspace
beyond the vibrations
of words,
past great arcs of light -
as still
as crooked nails,
like mist
in a carcass heavy night.

One step
without trace
into velvet waves
as stormclouds brew -
simmering slowly
on a bare horizon,
hanging bats
the death's head crew.

Shadows pool
beneath turtle steps
gathering light
and soul in one -
the moon dims
like a callussed pearl,
shrouded orb
becomes black sun...

@Steven Francis poems 2009